by J. T. Wright
“Greater Grak, Sergeant!”
When Trent spoke, Tersa, who was starting to pull the body aside, paused. Her hands went to her hips, and the creature’s feet thudded to the ground. She was very interested in what her friend had to say.
“Eyes of a Greater Grak!” Trent Appraised the items in his hand again to be sure. After verifying that he was right, the eyes went into Storage and Trent cast Self-Clean. He cast it twice, just to be sure. He had become used to much in the harvesting process, but holding a pair of eyeballs in his hands still wasn’t pleasant.
“Greater Grak, Sergeant.” he repeated, turning to face Cullen. “That doesn’t sound like a Basic Beast.”
The boy’s tone wasn’t accusatory. Not exactly. Trent’s voice had a hard note to it, but it held more curiosity than hostility. Tersa’s expression, on the other hand, was all accusation. Her forgotten rage over learning about the Sergeant’s other lies tried to rush back. The pissing old bastard was always lying!
She held her anger back, though it wasn’t easy. After days of running and training, she had found her discipline, such as it was, again. More than that, she remembered why she trusted Cullen so much. She might not have been the most exemplary of Recruits, but Cullen, for all his crusty, conniving ways, was a pillar in her life. She owed him the benefit of the doubt.
“It is a Basic Beast, Runt!” Cullen faced the two without guilt. This time he hadn’t lied. “People talk about Specialization like it’s a rank. It’s not. Your Swordsman Class, does it compare to your Advanced Survivalist Class?”
As Trent considered this question, Cullen walked to the body of the Greater Grak. He reached down with one hand and lifted it off the ground. Still using a single hand, he tossed the body in the direction of the pile of other corpses. The deceased Grak landed twenty feet away with a squelching noise.
Tersa’s hands fell from her hips as her eyes lit up with admiration. Cullen didn’t bask in the glow of her approval. That would spoil the effect. He just sniffed, as if tossing nearly two hundred pounds, single-handedly, was the easiest thing in the world. Which, with his Attributes, it was.
Having demonstrated his superiority, while magically transforming Tersa’s suspicions into hero worship, Cullen continued explaining.
“The answer you already should have come up with is, of course, that it does not. A Swordsman is just a Warrior. An Advanced Class is much more. Beasts can Specialize as well. It’s harder for them, but if you run into a creature with a word like ‘Greater’ in its species name, best to be a little more cautious.”
“That’s why I couldn’t bash it right!” Tersa made a fist and smashed it into her open palm. “That thing just wouldn’t go down! Stupid, ugly, flaming, jerkface of a Grak! I still would have cracked it, if those little ones….”
“You would have been the one who was ‘cracked’, if not for the Runt.” Cullen’s glower cut into Tersa, silencing her. “You fought like a Brute, despite not holding the weapon of one! That’s your Class leading you around by the nose! You have to be better than that.”
“Have you noticed that Runt's leg yet, Probationary Recruit Tersa?”
Trent gave a nervous cough and shifted his right leg to keep it out of Tersa’s view. He'd gotten there in time to get between Tersa and the Greater Grak’s club, but he had left himself open doing it. A Grak’s filthy claws had scored a good hit to his thigh, tearing trousers and flesh. It had stopped bleeding, but now that the adrenaline from the fight had worn off, it was starting to ache. He took out a minor Health Potion and drank it.
“No, you didn't notice shit! You’ve got your head so far up your ass that it’s a wonder you can breathe!”
Tersa’s head dropped in shame, her cheeks flushed. She had noticed, but Trent was always getting banged up in fights. That wasn’t her fault, was it?
Only it was. Trent only took hits to keep her from being damaged. Normally, he flitted around, dodging and ducking. When he couldn’t dodge, he blocked. Usually not well, but he managed. Trent’s evasiveness was solid, his other defensive tactics needed work. However, it was when he was covering for her, or when he faced opponents far above his Level, that he got hurt.
“You have to think, Recruit! If you let your Class and Skills dictate your actions… What exactly are you doing, Runt?”
Cullen turned from furious to exasperated in an instant. True, he was yelling at Tersa for the moment, but Trent should still be paying attention! But Trent wasn't. He hated listening in while others were lectured. To distract himself, Trent had taken his longsword off his belt and put it in Storage.
He had also taken a saber out of Storage and was waving it through the air casually. Trent had his cowl down, and Cullen could see the dissatisfied look on his face. Violet eyes were dull, resigned, as if Trent didn't care for the saber but didn’t have a better option.
“I'm switching out my weapon, Sergeant,” Trent explained sheathing the weapon. He began to attach the sheath to his belt. He froze when he realized the Sergeant’s ire was focused on him. Tersa was giving him a grateful look, but it wasn’t one he deserved. He hadn’t meant to save Tersa through his actions and honestly didn’t know what he had done that made Cullen’s right eye twitch like that.
“Why are you switching weapons, Runt?” Cullen bit off each word. Cullen hated it when trainees did unnecessary things that he hadn’t ordered them to do, and Trent’s actions were unnecessary.
Trent’s eyes darted about nervously as he explained. The last fight had pushed his Basic Longsword Skill to Level 10. Beyond granting him 2 Dexterity points, this was the highest Level the Skill could reach. He had switched weapons because Ocean Meets the Shore required a single-edged sword. The saber wasn’t ideal, but Trent thought it would do until he could find a better one.
“You think you’re ready to practice that Technique because you've maxed out Basic Longsword?” Trent nodded his head slowly. The Sergeant’s question implied he was wrong. “Noemi grant me patience and a quick death, far from young Awakeneds!” Cullen sighed and offered up a prayer to the local Goddess of Mercy. “You two just insist on making me talk about things that shouldn’t be talked about, at least not in the open. Three more hours…
“Common, Basic, and Advanced, all Specializations aside, these are the three ranks that are acknowledged in the Al’verren Kingdom.” Seeing Trent’s eyebrows knit together, Cullen added, “That’s the name of the kingdom, of which, the Al'dross Barony is a tiny section.”
Cullen recognized his mistake when Tersa’s nose wrinkled, and Trent’s eyebrows remained touching. “We will not be discussing why Duke Al’dross is a Duke when he rules a barony! We are only talking about ranks!
“Beyond the Advanced rank – Weapons, Beasts, Classes, Skills, and Abilities – Rare, Epic, and Legendary,” Cullen listed three ranks beyond Advanced in a rush. He spat and then reached out to push Tersa next to Trent.
“Pay attention! Just knowing that there are Ranks higher than Advanced is enough to get you imprisoned, enslaved, or killed.” Cullen spoke evenly, without a hint of anger. “These things shouldn’t be spoken of outside of a Temple or the Trials, or someplace that is heavily warded against scrying. You two should never speak of them at all, not even if you pick up a Rare Skill or Class.
“Which you have, Runt! Ocean Meets the Shore is a Technique. It might be greater than Rare, I saw an Al’rashian Swordmaster once… it doesn’t matter. The fact is that Technique is still more than you can handle. I could strangle the Trial for giving it to you.
“You’ve maxed Basic Longsword. That’s good, very good, damn impressive, really. It means you've learned to crawl. Slowly and clumsily, but you are moving forward. Having learned to crawl, now you want to sprint. You want to run, screaming, naked, while carrying sharp objects! You need to slow down. Forget you’ve ever even heard of that Technique.”
Cullen swiped his fingers across his lips. He didn’t like what he was about to do. As a Warrior, Trent would naturally develop a new T
echnique suitable for him once he mastered the Basics. If Trent didn’t, it would be because Ocean Meets the Shore was pulling him along, demanding the boy practice it. In that case, Cullen would have to provide a lesser Technique and hope it didn’t cripple the Runt's progress.
“Do you have enough XP to level your Swordsman Class?” At Trent’s hesitant nod, Cullen gritted his teeth and said, “Then do it.”
Cullen held his breath as Trent’s face took on the vacant expression that said he was wrapped up in his Status. A moment later, when Trent reported the results of his Level increase, Cullen swallowed hard and breathed out.
“Military Fencing is a Specialized Basic Technique, and a good one for fighting opponents like Graks.” He didn’t say ‘Men,’ but he thought it loudly. “Alright, that’s settled. I would advise you to put your Attribute Points into Strength, all four of them.”
Relieved that things had worked out, Cullen forgot all about the blistering lecture he had prepared to give them regarding their performance against the Graks. After making Trent put his one-handed longsword back on, the Sergeant ordered the two to stay close and follow him.
He would lead the way from here on out. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Trent’s scouting abilities. He just wanted to make it to their destination before dark. In the densely treed area they were about to enter, it would be faster to travel as a group. The sooner they were done here, the sooner they would be back in conditions Cullen could control. That time couldn’t come fast enough, as far as the Sergeant was concerned.
**********
Trent wanted to talk more. He had so many questions! He wanted to know more about ranks. He wanted to know why it was illegal to even know that Advanced wasn’t the limit to growth. He was also curious about his new Technique, Military Fencing.
Most of all, Trent wanted to know where they were headed. The Sergeant seemed determined to keep the information to himself. Cullen set a pace that kept Tersa and Trent from even thinking too much, never mind asking questions. Running along trails clearly meant for animals, the trainees’ thoughts were kept on their feet.
At first, Trent wasn’t so bad off. His Endurance and Steady Footing Skill made following the Sergeant a manageable task. His cowl, with its Dark Vision Ability, let him scan his surroundings even in the fading light and deepening gloom that set in as the trees grew bigger and the cover denser.
He had never been in a forest before. He hadn’t consciously known the word before they left the grasslands. He was delighted to discover its meaning now. He had always found it peculiar. From conversations, Trent picked up that others had to learn how to speak and read. They had to be taught how to walk and take care of themselves. Trent just knew, he had no memories before being Summoned, or Bonded if Darak was right about his origins.
He knew, as he ran through this group of trees, that they were collectively called a forest. But knowing that and experiencing it was different. Leaves rustled in the wind, creating a sound that was entirely different from the way it blew through the grasslands. Mint and herbal scents were carried on that wind. Trent tried to identify the new smells, and in most cases, with the help of Herbalism, he was successful. Now and again, a scent drifted to him that he couldn’t place, and he wished he could stop to figure out where it came from.
There was so much that he wished there was time to explore. He would have examined each individual tree and bush. He would have sought out what caused the underbrush to rattle, and fallen sticks to snap, as he and the other two rushed past. They startled birds and small rodents, and Trent was forced to be satisfied with the briefest of glances.
Cullen pushed on as if he knew that the briefest of pauses would cause Trent to fall prey to his inquisitiveness. He barreled through the woods, paying no mind to spider webs or branches that got in the way. If a Beast had crossed their path, he would settle the unfortunate creature with a punch and keep moving. He had answered his quota of questions for the day.
Trent didn’t have difficulty keeping up, but the same couldn’t be said for Tersa. She wasn’t blessed with Trent’s Skills. Only dogged determination kept the tiny redheaded Brute on the trail. She stared at Trent’s back and thought angry thoughts about how all the people in her life were stupid. How running was stupid. How roots and branches, they were the stupidest of all!
When she knocked into Trent after she tripped for the one-millionth time, it probably wasn’t intentional. In fairness, focusing on him and thinking how nice it would be to strangle this boy who loped so easily through the woods, was the only way she kept up. It was inevitable that she would run closer and closer behind him.
The jerkface didn’t even have the common courtesy to fall face first when she tripped and crashed into him! A little stumble, and he was back upright and running like nothing ever happened. From then on, she stayed right on his ass, and if a root caught her foot, Trent knew about it.
It was marvelous! She didn’t worry about falling anymore. Trent was stupid and annoying, but he was dependable. As long as she stayed close, she could bounce off of him and keep running. She tested this new running Technique by intentionally tripping a few times, and by Terah’s bouncing tits, it worked!
Trent lost all interest in what caused that whistling noise when the wind blew just right. He no longer wondered what animal sent the knocking noise ringing through the trees. He had absolutely no curiosity about the sweet smells that teased his nose from time to time. Tersa battered all curiosity about nature out of him.
Now he wondered how a person could trip so often. Surely, she didn’t head-butt him. No one rammed their face against the back of a person’s head intentionally. Never mind that Tersa was shorter than he was, and only a skipping jump would have allowed her the altitude to do that. But then, people didn’t fall up, did they?
Trent was lost in fond memories of running from the Undead in the Trial. There he'd been the scout and had plenty of distance between himself and the clumsy battering ram that was Tersa. Even that time the Tainted Terror had flung him into a stone wall, cracking bones and nearly killing him, was preferable to what he was suffering now. How long until the torture ended?
When it ended, Trent regretted his casual thoughts and inattentiveness. Cullen had stopped without a word. Running into the back of the Sergeant, because he was looking at his feet and thinking sullen thoughts, was bad. The impact drove a groan and the last of the air out of Trent’s lungs. Cullen didn’t give way in the slightest.
The Sergeant continued to stand firm when Tersa ran into the back of Trent and proceeded to turn the boy into a tired, mashed sandwich. The force of the impact set Tersa reeling backward, cursing. Trent slid slowly to his knees. He wasn’t crying, but he wanted too.
Their destination wasn’t quite a clearing, but the foliage had thinned enough to reveal the sky. Cullen lifted his eyes to the heavens with a long-suffering sigh. He turned to his charges, neither of whom were on their feet.
“What do you two think you’re doing? No, don’t tell me. My expectations can’t sink any lower anyway. We’re here.” Cullen announced their arrival. It shouldn’t have to be said, but with Recruits, you always needed to. Cullen might need to repeat it for Trent later. The boy was on his hands and knees and didn’t look well. Hopefully, he hadn’t forgotten how to breathe.
“Be respectful here.” Cullen warned sternly. “No fires! There’s fruit on those trees over there. You may have one piece for dinner. Only one.”
“Oh, piss on that!” Tersa managed to force out her complaint as she struggled to catch her breath. “I mean, come on, Sergeant! We need hot food, and why can’t we have a fire? Terah’s Hairy Ass! Fruit is for…”
The second the words started spilling from her lips, Tersa was resigned to her fate. Complaining wasn’t the best way to change the Sergeant’s mind, but sometimes it was the only way to properly express oneself. However, Cullen’s reaction wasn’t the one she expected.
Damn, the Sergeant was fast! But why was he tossing Tre
nt over his shoulder? Seriously, so fast! He crossed over a hundred yards, carrying Trent, almost instantly! But why? Shouldn’t he be yelling about ungrateful, undisciplined, pathetic, scum-sucking Recruits right now? Tersa though they were done running. She thought….
She didn’t know what she thought, but suddenly, there was only one, all-consuming question that filled Tersa’s tired, pouty brain.
Why was the world turning upside down?
Chapter 10
Trent thought the view from Cullen’s shoulder was very fine indeed. Not that he enjoyed being picked up and carried like a bag of grain. He would have preferred to lay on the soft, pleasant-looking green grass. Cullen’s shoulder wasn’t so comfortable.
One thing had to be said for the Sergeant, though. He might not be reasonable, but he was fair. He insisted that his Recruits do all things fully decked out for combat, and he set an example by always doing the same. This meant that, instead of being cradled by the earth, Trent found his bruised body bouncing off Cullen’s armor.
Despite the punishment that his ribs were being subjected to, he was nearly certain they were cracked, Trent took this rare opportunity to look around. The view from this height was spectacular, and the scenery was worth being appreciated.
The wild, untamed forest was gone. What had replaced it was a carefully tended garden. It wasn’t the confined gardens of the outer ward at the Al’drossford Keep. This garden looked to be kept by a person who wanted to display the majesty of nature without the randomness of the woods to get in the way.
Here the trees didn’t fight for space but grew peacefully in their own areas, each ancient giant reaching for the sky, unconcerned with the battle for resources. Beneath their sheltering boughs, flowers and herbs flourished in unconstrained plots. Every color imaginable bloomed in all corners of this garden and beaten dirt paths wandered randomly amongst the foliage so that travelers might enjoy all aspects of the growing rainbow.